


Ode of the Dandelion

by Cute Negativity Cloud (Ofelia)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Found Family Dynamics, Gaslighting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I mean it's angst. what did u expect, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Explicit, Zuko-centric, ice dance au, music academy au, non-explicit physical abuse, psychological abuse, that's figure skate AU for you ignorant heathens, yes I use BOTH we die like over-tropey fangirls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofelia/pseuds/Cute%20Negativity%20Cloud
Summary: Zuko is stuck, and he knows this. He has been stuck for a long time, unable to completely let go and please his father, unable to forget what happped and learn from his mistakes and be a better a son. He doesn't know why he still sneaks in the Royal Conservatory to play in secret - maybe even tries a bit too hard not to think about it.Sokka and Katara want to help their dad fund his ice academy, and they are stuck. They need more musicians for their fund-raising ice show - and no-one to turn to. Until they find a mysterious student playing by himself in a secluded corner of the school.A Zuko-centric music academy x ice dance AU.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	Ode of the Dandelion

dandelion

 _noun_ [c]

/ˈdæn.dɪ.laɪ.ən/

A small, yellow wildflower that makes light, white seeds, easy to blow in the wind. Stubborn and bright, it can thrive even when growing through a crack in the concrete.

_Ursa would have rather been bleeding. She would rather have felt the blood in her mouth, again, the teeth knocked loose and aching._

_Anything, anything would have been better than this._

_Ozai watched her with cold triumph glimmering in his snake eyes, and her lungs were frozen._

_“Let me see them,” she pleaded, falling into the bottomless-black pit of self-hatred, unable to help herself._

_Ozai sneered at her. “You lost every right to see them when you whored yourself out.”_

_You CAN’T, she wanted to scream. But he could. They both knew it._

_“Please let me see them one last time,” she said, and grabbed his sleeve. “I can’t just disappear in the night like this---”_

_Ozai backhanded her in the mouth, the blow so violent she almost toppled._

_“Foolish woman. You forfeited every right you had to speak in my presence, let alone to plead. You brought this on yourself, Ursa. You knew what would happen, and yet you did it anyway… I hope you’ll be happy with that mongrel, because you won’t see your children, my heirs, ever again.”_

_Ursa covered her stinging lips, fighting back the tears. She would not cry in front of him._

_“Mom?”_

_Ursa whipped around, terrified it was just her mind playing tricks, her shattered heart conjuring what it so desperately longed for, but no. There he was, her Zuko, half hidden behind a column, flinching when Ozai looked at him, but not leaving. Not stopping to search his mother’s eyes._

_Her brave, reckless Zuko._

_“Mom, where are you going?” he asked, voice trembling and eyes brimming with unshed tears._

_“Silence,” Ozai intimated. “Where is your useless sitter?”_

_“Zuko!” Ursa lunged forward, but Ozai grabbed her and pushed her away, towards the security guards that had gathered._

_“Throw her out!” Ozai ordered, and Zuko started screaming, crying and pleading for her to come back, for the security guards to let her go, for his father to stop, unheeding of the first slap, and the second, and the third, and the split lip, until the sitter snatched him back, enveloping him in her arms._

_“Please forgive me, Mr Suzaku,” she said, fighting back tears of her own. “I won’t let him out of my sight ever again.”_

_Zuko struggled in her arms, and she did her best to smother his cries without hurting him._

_Ursa screamed as they dragged her away. She wasn’t proud of it, she wasn’t proud of the distress she was causing, knowing she was burning this image into Zuko’s mind. She screamed anyway, she screamed until they threw her into a car, not an item or property to her name, and took her away._

Zuko was fuming with frustration. He almost threw the viola to the ground.

He needed to _focus_.

Why was he even doing this again?

He could hear uncle Iroh like he was there. _Nephew, don’t let the drive for perfection ruin this for you. Let yourself experience it. Let yourself just be._

He took a deep breath, moved back the cursor, and started again. He had been working on this passage for what felt like years. No matter what he tweaked, it never sounded right. The more it didn’t sound right, the more he doubted himself, and the more he wondered if it was a futile effort. He could have been using this time to study, to try harder at being less of a failure. His grades had been a roller coaster of ups and downs three years in a row, and he had exhausted the reserves of everyone’s sympathy and understanding after the third time he had hissed at a teacher _Stop staring at my shoulder and look at my scar if you want to give me the pity treatment_.

He knew he was no Azula. He needed to try harder, and longer, and be stubborn about everything to get a fraction of the results she got at her first try. If she were here, she’d take a look at the half-finished score, add a single note with a smug smile, and make it perfect.

Zuko started again.

“I’m telling you, it’ll be a disaster!” Sokka cried, throwing his hands in the air.

“It really won’t” Katara said, sighing in exasperation. “Worst scenario is we just skate as normal, and what’s so bad with that?”

“But dad counted on us!”

“Maybe you were… uhm, well maybe…” Aang said, trying to find the right words to make Sokka not feel too bad.

“You shouldn’t have told your father that you could convince students from the Royal Conservatory to perform live at the show,” Toph said. “Everyone here is a rich snob and as you’re not part of their socialite circle, you’re not worthy of their precious, snobby time by default.” 

Katara looked around nervously. There were just a few students around, but Toph wasn’t even trying to keep her voice low, and all of them were sending them dirty looks.

Which, coincidentally, proved Toph right. They all stared pouting and with their noses up in the air.

“You go here and you speak to us!” Sokka said. “You’re even rich!”

“I have nothing to do with these losers,” Toph deadpanned. She heard Aang facepalming, and she grinned even wider.

“Suki, help me out here!” Sokka said.

Suki laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry Sokka, but Toph seems to be an exception and Aang is here on a scholarship...” She turned another corner and sighed silently. She loved Toph, really; she was the toughest cookie around by a mile. But she really didn’t have to jeopardize Sokka’s plan like this. Sokka’s impossible-to-realize-from-the-beginning plan, granted, but it was the thought that counted. Good friends didn’t antagonize the main asset of said plan. Good friends led the rest of their friends into the dustiest part of the Conservatory, the Composition wing, where only nerds who tried too hard would gather. And no one tried hard at _Composition_ here.

“I thought it was going to work the same! Like a transitive relation of snobby musicians or something,” Sokka said, dejected.

Toph sneered. “What Suki means is that these guys aren’t even good musicians. They’re just here because mommy and daddy want to have the perfect trophy child who plays the piano, and they pay for it. A lot.”

“I’m sorry guys, but most of them try really hard to get accepted by everyone else… I thought I could convince them but I was wrong…” Aang said.

“It’s not your fault,” Katara said. “It’s ok, we’ll just use normal music like always. Dad won’t mind.”

Sokka sighed even harder. “Damn it. I’m sure if we had something different and awesome like this, we could help the rink to stand out. We really need more funds.” He fell silent, thinking of how enthusiastic Hakoda had been when he had told him his idea. Sokka knew he wouldn’t be mad, but he hated the idea to tell him and see that enthusiasm dim, if only a bit. The group fell silent at his obvious disappointment. 

“You still have us, though,” Aang said, trying to cheer him up. “We can make it work!”

“How, though?” Suki asked. “You play the violin and Toph plays the cello. I can make a decent second violin if you need it, but we’re still missing at least a viola player for a string quartet.”

“Improvisation?” Aang asked.

“Look I love you guys, but I was thinking more along the lines of, well, you know,” Sokka said.

Katara sighed.

“What?” Aang prompted.

“An entire orchestra?” Sokka said.

Toph snorted. Even Aang and Suki exchanged glances.

“I was envisioning that--- that wow factor, ok?”

“‘That wow factor’?” Toph repeated, her voice dripping sarcasm.

“Yes Toph, laugh all you want at the uncultured not-musician who knows nothing of musical termin---” 

“What about this, then?” Toph interrupted him.

Sokka half-expected a punch, but she stayed perfectly still. “...This, what?”

“This, Sokka. Listen.”

Everyone exchanged dubious glances, but seeing as Toph seemed serious, they fell silent, and listened. The hallway was quiet, the twilight glow creeping in from the small windows of the ground floor. The composition classrooms didn’t have the grandeur of the floor-to-ceiling windows nor the neoclassical frescoes of the upper floors; the wing was dim and deserted.

And there was very faint music coming from somewhere. 

Sokka looked at Toph. “That doesn’t sound like a single person practicing.”

Toph didn’t comment, and started to walk towards the music. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’ve always wanted to know who is sneaking in down here in the evenings.”

“What do you mean?” Suki asked. “I hear at least---”

The music stopped. They froze, and then Sokka realized they were not sneaking around and it was stupid to behave like this, and when he opened his mouth to say so Toph punched his arm. Then someone cursed. Katara covered Aang’s ears. Then the someone - a boy, definitely - hissed another curse, and the music started again, the same passage as before. From this close, Suki understood what Toph had meant. The passage was missing the harmony, until someone started to play, filling it in. The boy?

If it was him, he was definitely in the last classroom of the hallway. The door was shut, and thick enough to muffle most of the sound, but they could still make out the music. It was a slow-paced piece, the strings intertwining towards a majestic crescendo. It felt powerful, and graceful, and exactly what Sokka needed. 

And that’s why he very carefully turned the handle to open the door, just a slit, just enough to _see_ …

The click was so faint, perfectly drowned by the music, that Sokka wanted to pat himself on the back. Only Toph could hear that!

“Who’s there?” the boy snarled, whipping around and glaring. Everyone save Toph gasped. It was hard to tell if he was especially mad at them, or if the scar covering almost half of his face just made him look that much more menacing.

“Why did you all gasp like that? Is he covered in blood?” Toph asked.

“Toph, please,” Katara begged.

“What? So he saw us. Big deal, he’s just playing, not murdering anyone.”

Quickly recovering from the shock, Aang opened the door with as big a smile as he could muster. “Hi,I’m Aang! We heard you play and---”

Zuko slammed shut the laptop in front of him. “What are you doing here?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Uh, I, we, we kind of study here?” Aang stammered, taken aback his vehemence.

Sokka decided he wasn’t having any of that attitude. “What are you so aggressive about? You’re acting like you’re playing some forbidden demonic score or something. Calm down dude.”

Zuko glared, if possible, even harder. He threw the laptop into his nearby backpack and pushed the viola none-too-gently into its case. He hoped the furious display hid how badly his hands were shaking. Normally he’d put the viola back to its place, but he needed to _leave_ _right now_ , so he just left it there.

“Hey come on man, what’s the problem? Shy? Embarrassed?” Sokka barrelled on. “That piece sounded amazing! Who’s the artist?”

“Composer,” Zuko hissed, unable to stop himself. “It’s ‘composer’, you thug.”

“ _Thug_?!” Sokka yelled indignantly. “Did you look yourself in the mirror lately?”

“Sokka!” Katara cried.

“What?”

“ _The show_!”

Sokka stayed silent for a second. “Oh. Right. Hey dude what’s your name?” 

Zuko shouldered past him, smacking him as hard as he could without slowing down. 

“We have a live performance coming up and we’re looking for musicians we’re ice skaters it’s gonna be so fun!” Sokka said, running completely out of breath at the end.

Zuko ignored him and pushed the door open.

“If it’s a problem of stage fright you don’t have to worry, we’ll play together!” Aang tried to help.

Zuko whipped around again, looking ready to murder. “ _I don’t have stage fright_ ,” he said, slowly and deliberately. Then he slammed the door closed.

“Wait!” Suki said, but when she followed him back into the hallway, she found it empty. “What the…?” she asked, scanning it in both directions. “Where did he go?”

“He snuck out,” Toph said, “again.”

“What do you mean, again?” Katara asked. 

“I had noticed that sometimes, at odds times, there was someone sneaking in the composition classroom. I don’t think he’s a student.”

“Is he a thief?” Suki asked.

“I don’t think so. Why would a thief come back to the same classroom again and again?”

The group pondered over this, exchanging glances. 

“Well, he was just playing, and he had a laptop of his own, if we assume he didn’t steal that,” Suki said. “And he was using that viola. Maybe he doesn’t have one of his own?”

“...Maybe he’s poor?” Aang ventured.

“You’re all focusing on what doesn’t matter,” Sokka said. “Who cares if he’s a thief? I don’t care if he burns down villages _for fun_! I care about finding him again and make him play at the show.”

“Sokka, you insulted him. He won’t agree,” Katara said.

“He insulted me first! And actually, his reaction was the best we got all day! At least he spoke to us.”

Zuko was too wired to go home. The adrenaline rush had left him twitchy and exhausted, and he kept going back to those kids’ faces over and over again. He was almost sure he didn’t know them, and that they didn’t know him, but what if he was wrong? What if they talked, what if they joked about the weird, ugly and way-too-fucking-recognizable guy in the composition wing, what if Azula caught wind of it?

He couldn’t go home yet. He had to calm down first.

So he walked to the tea shop where uncle Iroh worked. The soft chime of the bell when he opened the door was familiar and warm in a way that was vaguely distressing. He still didn’t know what he thought of this place, the cozy hidey-hole where uncle Iroh worked as tea brewer. After managing one of the biggest Aerospace and Defense conglomerate in the world. Zuko knew his uncle was happier here than he had ever being - especially after the death of Lu Ten - but it was hard not to hear his father sneering at his older brother, his weak older brother who couldn’t cope with the stress and stooped so low as to becoming a _waiter_. Zuko would never think less of Iroh for being devastated over Lu Ten’s passing, but he would lie if he thought brewing tea was an occupation worthy of his uncle. 

He just hoped Iroh couldn’t tell, but Zuko knew he’s never been any good at lying.

But whenever he came in, he couldn’t help but soak the peace. The place always smelled faintly of sugar cookies and tea, and the cream-and-pale-wood palette was soothing. It was a good place to just _be_ , even though it was nothing but a temporary respite, a bubble of illusion. 

Iroh was scooping loose leaf tea from a red tin jar, filling small brown packets ready to be sold. He smiled when he saw him, like always. “Zuko, welcome. Here for a cup of tea?”

“Why do you even ask? It’s not like you’ll listen if I tell you no,” Zuko asked. 

Iroh, knowing full well there was no bite in the words, laughed. “A cup of jasmine tea, then! And I also have a batch of those cookies you like so much. It’s good you’re here to eat them, no one ever orders them.”

“Your customers have no taste.”

In a matter of minutes Zuko was nibbling on a delicious cookie glazed with black chocolate, with a sprinkle of pepper flakes. Iroh’s customers had no idea what they were missing.

“So how was your day, nephew?” Iroh asked, taking advantage of the lull in customers. 

“As usual,” Zuko said. Uncle Iroh always asked, and always received the same non-committal answer. Zuko knew he cared, and he appreciated that; he wouldn’t be there otherwise. But the tea shop was the last safe place he had. He didn’t want to take his problems into its quiet, peaceful bubble. The same bubble his uncle cherished so much. Iroh had decided to lay down that burden - the family business, the endless struggle with shareholders, Ozai, Zuko being a messy disappointment - and Zuko would respect it. 

“Well,” Iroh said, “I have news for you then. Or rather, news for me, but I can count on my favorite nephew to be happy for me, can’t I?”

“You don’t even have other nephews.”

“I have a niece and she’s a little terror who will never be allowed in my own tea shop.”

“You’ll have your own tea shop?” Zuko asked, a smile barely touching his lips.

“I will! I just signed the renting contract!” Iroh said, and then laughed.

“That’s amazing, uncle.” 

“I have to start planning the decor! I know hanging plants and light pastels are very in fashion now, but I think I’ll do something to stand apart! What do you think about a modern Chinese style? Ah, but I wouldn’t want it to be too pretentious---” Iroh rambled on, bouncing off ideas one after the other. Zuko just listened and enjoyed his enthusiasm.

  
  


Toph was going to get to the bottom of this. Asking around for volunteers for Sokka’s crazy idea had been a chore and the only one who had taken it seriously had been Aang. (She loved Sokka and his crazy ideas, really, she did. But he had a tendency to make things overly complicated at first. A good reality check was simply in his best interests.) Now though, she was invested. Luckily for him, Sokka was also invested in the new Operation Expose the Violist Ninja, so they were on the same page.

And once Toph decided she wanted something, she was relentless. Aang, on the other hand, was too polite and was terrible at pressing people. He had these pesky ethical complaints against threatening and the occasional friendly upside-down shaking. Also, he was scared of the Third Years, because he really believed their posturing, like they were anything else than rich snobs with too much free time.

Toph didn’t.

Katara kind of did, but it was easy to rile her up, and no doubt they would rile her up enough for all politeness to be thrown out the window.

Finally, a fun afternoon.

That’s why she didn’t hesitate to walk up to every Third Year Katara could see for her, up to and including the Bitch Trio.

“Toph, are you sure?” Katara asked once she spotted them.

“Why are you all so scared of them? What’s the worst a trio of three spoiled teenage girls from disgustingly rich families could do?” Toph asked.

“You’re also from a disgustingly rich family,” Katara pointed out.

“And I speak to you. It’s not that hard. Who cares about that nowadays anyway?”

“Well, I guess if you just be friendly with her, she’s just another girl like us…” Katara said, reassured.

“Exactly,” Toph said with a smirk. “Hey, Alpha Bitch,” she said, to Katara’s utter horror. In facts, Katara was going to bolt it if Azula and her girl posse tried to murder Toph, because Toph deserved it.

Azula looked down to Toph. “What did you just say?” she asked, her tone perfectly even.

“I said ‘Hey, Alpha Bitch’,” Toph repeated, “do you know any musician who plays the viola and has a giant scar on his face? Might be a former student.”

“I’m not shoving that cane of yours down your throat only because I don’t want to ruin my nails, I hope you’re aware of that,” Azula said, her tone staying just as flat as before.

Toph twirled said cane, unbothered. “You could try. You might discover that I’m pretty good at whacking people with it, though.”

Ty Lee and Mai listened in silence, watching Azula closely. “Why are you asking me about former students? It’s like you think I waste my time with has-beens,” Azula said, watching her claw-shaped nails.

“Well we saw him here a few days ago but it seems like he sneaks in to practice,” Katara said as brightly as she could, trying to prevent Toph from further antagonizing Azula. “So we thought to ask people who have been students here the longest, like you---”

Azula didn’t even listen, and tried instead to catch Toph’s cane with her foot. Toph twirled it out of the way and took a single step to the side, showing her open fighting stance. Azula kept still, studying her.

“Hey! What was that for?” Katara asked.

Azula ignored her. “I see how it is,” she said, looking down to Toph. “Sorry I couldn’t help you, cripple.”

Azula left, followed by her friends.

Katara was fuming. “What the hell did she call y---”

“She knows,” Toph said, completely calm.

“She knows what?” 

“Who Ninja is.”

“Ninja? Scratch that, aren’t we going to talk about what she called you?”

“Waste of time. Azula is the advanced piano program, they have class now. We should let the others know and look up her classmates online, see if anything pops up.”

Katara looked skeptical. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what? My squishy feelings? I’ll get her one day. Focus on the Operation.”

  
  


Azula entered the classroom, sat in the first row, and whipped out her smartphone. Her teacher was waiting next to the piano. He didn’t utter a word as she typed.

_oh Zuzu… you’re in so much trouble_

He left her on read. Azula smirked. She could just picture his little hamster brain going into overdrive with anxiety, desperately trying not to bite.

There was a very long pause before Zuko answered. Azula wished she could see his face as he stared in horror at his phone. He had been very good at covering his tracks, she handled him that. She had had no idea he had snuck back in - knowing him, more than once. He was lucky that no one had seen him at the Conservatory after the accident - no one had any idea how he looked now, so hadn’t connected the dots when asked.

Too bad Toph Beifong was stupid and fearless.

 _I won’t tell father,_ she typed in.

She didn’t wait for a reply. She put away her phone, walked to the piano stool, and allowed her teacher to start her lesson.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a creature of impatience and I'm posting this before I even set up half of what I have in my mind. Be advised a twitter page with additional snippets, information, inspirations and ice dance galore is coming. Maybe. One day.  
> EDIT: it's here!! Head over to [@DandelionOde](https://twitter.com/DandelionOde) for a look into the music, skating routines and random info that went into creating this fic!


End file.
